


I Confess, I'm Messed Up

by pixeldreamer



Series: He Said, “Why Don’t You Just Drop Dead?” [2]
Category: A Little Less Sixteen Candles a Little More "Touch Me" - Fall Out Boy (Song), Bandom, Fall Out Boy, I Don't Know How But They Found Me (Band), Panic! at the Disco, The Academy Is...
Genre: A Little Less Sixteen Candles A Little More "Touch Me" (Video), Alternate Universe - A Little Less Sixteen Candles (Music Video), Alternate Universe - Vampire, Betrayal, Character Turned Into Vampire, Cheating, M/M, Past Ryan Ross/Brendon Urie, Spain, Vampire Brendon Urie, Vampire Ryan Ross, Vampire Turning, Vampire William Beckett, Vampires
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-31
Updated: 2019-01-31
Packaged: 2019-10-19 16:07:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,186
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17604560
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pixeldreamer/pseuds/pixeldreamer
Summary: Ryan’s gaze returned to Brendon’s face once more. This time, he smiled directly at him, and it looked so incredibly genuine. However, what filled Dallon with a simmering, hot, feeling was the fact Brendon smiled back like he did when he met Dallon.-----Dallon goes to Spain with Brendon, who has the intention of annoying his ex-boyfriend, Ryan Ross, at one of his concerts after he left him behind when he escaped the Dandies. Unfortunately, things happen that were never intended, and the trip quickly goes from 1 to 10.Part 2 to A Little Less Interrogation, A Little More Alcohol.





	I Confess, I'm Messed Up

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Wolf_Lettuce](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Wolf_Lettuce/gifts).



> Woah, part 2 is here... a whole year later. If you haven't read the previous part in the series, I recommend you do.
> 
> Anyways, this work is dedicated to Wolf_Lettuce because she originally was the one who inspired me to write the first part, so even though we haven't talked much, I guess I just want to let you know there's a part 2. I wouldn't be here without ya, so thanks.

Dallon really should have killed him. It would have been easy enough to drive a stake through him while he was unaware and say, _Bye bitch_ , and be applauded for taking down the monster who was infamously second in the number of horrendous deeds in Chicago. First, now.

Instead, he had given Brendon Urie his phone number. Scrawled it in pen ink on his arm, and then went on his way as his heart fluttered and hoped for his phone to ring like he was some sort of teenage girl and not an amateur vampire hunter.

Dallon admittedly was a novice; he didn’t have much experience in the field. He lied and told the other hunters often in his company that he had taken down a few rogue vampires in Utah. In fact, he was just a lucky college-dropout who happened to only run into dumb vampires his first few hunts and just barely take them down with quite an amount of amassed scrapes and cuts and bites that hung around for a month. Dallon Weekes should have been dead by this point, as he was just another foolish human who thought he could change something, and yet fate had decided to keep him breathing for now. He did have a few close calls, however, and far too many to count. Brendon Urie had been one of those.

Yet, he sat beside him on a plane to Barcelona.

They would be attending one of Ryan Ross and Jon Walker’s shows, who both used to be best friends with Brendon and abandoned him and his friend, Spencer, at the last minute to escape instead of rescuing him. Dallon had heard the story more times than he liked to think a boyfriend should be talking about his ex, but he could see why Brendon hated Ryan for leaving him behind. William Beckett, the leader of the Dandies, had made Brendon call Ryan when they got to the airport and trick him that if they didn’t come back, William would kill Spencer. Ryan hung up, and soon his phone number was out of use.

Since then, Ryan and Jon had begun a band with a growing following in Europe, and Brendon planned on taking revenge, since William Beckett was now gone and he could direct his attention elsewhere. Nobody really talked about Beckett’s death; he heard he was staked and left for the sun. The tale already had many renditions.

As soon as Brendon had showed the concert tickets to Dallon, Dallon knew it wasn’t a great idea. Maybe he shouldn’t be dating a vampire that’s just a little bit obsessed with one last fight (or sex) with his ex. Yet, Dallon had smiled, and thanked him. Vampire hunters rarely made enough money to go on trips, so he decided to be grateful. Also, Brendon had complained about trying to find a flight to Barcelona that took off and landed at dark, so he felt bad.

Dallon leaned on Brendon’s shoulder in the darkness of the plane, watching a movie and sharing a pair of earbuds. Brendon had joked while they waited to board the plane that he was going to watch all the vampire movies he could find, and then he found three of them. Twilight, whatever the sequel to Twilight is called, and then now they were watching Interview With A Vampire.

A flight attendant came down the aisle, taking trash from breakfast. Dallon wearily lifted his head to hand her their trays, and then went back to watching with Brendon. It only seemed like a few seconds later that the screen paused so the pilot could make an announcement.

“Damas y caballeros, estamos empezando nuestro descendo al aeropuerto de Barcelona, vamos aterrizar…” Dallon tuned out the pilot’s announcement, snuggling deeper into Brendon’s shoulder, waiting for the English announcement.

“Can you understand any of it?” Dallon whispered to Brendon.

“Nope.”

“You’re lucky I took Spanish in high school, otherwise you wouldn’t survive a day.”

“I took Spanish in high school.” Brendon defended. “But I forgot it all because Beckett made us speak French all the time to be _'sophisticated'_. Too bad the France concerts were sold out. What’s the pilot talking about?”

“I think he’s saying something about a connecting flight now. Nothing we need to worry about unless you plan on whisking us off to Santiago de Compostela in an hour.”

“Darn, guess we’re not gonna make Santiago de Compostela.” Brendon joked. The announcement ended, letting the movie resume for a few moments before the announcement in English started.

“Ladies and gentlemen, we’re starting our descent into the Barcelona airport. We’ll be landing in twenty minutes The local time is 9:32 PM and it is 69 degrees Fahrenheit and 20.5 degrees Celsius. If you’re connecting onto Santiago de Compostela, the flight has been delayed...”

Dallon yawned, and Brendon quietly chuckled and kissed his cheek. “You should have slept.”

“How could I when you begged me to watch the oh-so-riveting Bella and Edward have sex?”

“Yeah, but like, you just gotta see how ridiculous it is. Vampires don’t have sex like that.”

“How was I supposed to know?” Dallon said. “We haven’t had time to do… _that_ yet.”

“We’ll just have to change that soon.” Brendon smirked. “The hotel bed should be comfy. I made sure to get a nice hotel.”

“We’ll see.” Dallon smiled.

They had _almost_ had sex a few times. Unfortunately, it seemed like an impossible task. While Brendon was busy trying to reform himself, he was living with the band of hunters, Fall Out Boy, who didn’t trust him on his own while he was adjusting to the array of strange ingredients Patrick was experimenting with to create a disgusting blood replacement. The only thing it filled was half of Brendon’s suitcase, but it kept him and Pete from killing people for the time-being, so it worked for now.

Whenever Fall Out Boy would go out hunting, they would bring Brendon along. They used the excuse that the former second-in-command of the Dandies being spotted on their side intimidated their enemies, but Brendon knew they just didn’t want him alone in the house.

So when Dallon was over for their movie and cookie baking dates and such, there of course had to be another hunter in the house to check up on them periodically despite Dallon’s self-defense capabilities, and someone opening the door to ask how things were going every 30 minutes or whenever something falls over shouldn’t be so bad. 

Except this was the members of Fall Out Boy. 

When Patrick checked up on them, he was pretty cool, except he brought his notebook and took silent yet eerie notes on God knows what for a minute before leaving or asking Brendon to sample a putrid, rank, and abhorring blood substitute. Pete would come in and ask what they’re watching, then sit down next to them and get sucked into the movie, either sobbing or cheering loudly by the end. Joe was fine, but by that late hour he was smoking a blunt and the smell lingered for a few aching minutes and more if he hadn’t showered. Andy was a little cold, and gave Brendon a viscous glare and told him to be cautious, tossing his katana around like he’s all that, but in reality just a nerd who happens to also be able to kill him.

Recently, however, they’d all agreed Brendon had been doing pretty well and that he could go to visit Dallon as long as he’s back by dawn. They watched him leave the house like proud parents of a kindergartener getting on the bus.

However, Dallon also had roommates. Although they weren’t hunters, the two of the students who were in rigorous medical and law programs desperately needed sleep and threatened to hit Dallon with their overpriced textbooks if there was any noise from his bed that was cheaper than those textbooks. 

Needless to say, Brendon was thankful for the trip. He had received plenty of warnings from Andy, while he was swinging his katana around, about what they’d do if Dallon or any civilians were hurt or if they didn’t return from Spain, and knowing Andy, Brendon was eager to stay in line.

When the plane landed and begun taxiing, Brendon nudged Dallon, who had already fallen asleep. “Dallon, we’re in Barcelona. The plane is taxiing.”

“I don’t wanna get up.” Dallon buried himself further into Brendon’s neck.

“We’re going to be getting off in a few minutes, you might as well wake up and get ready.” He said, stroking Dallon’s hair.

“ _Fine._ ” Dallon sighed, opening his eyes to the light of the airplane, and looking out at the window at the glimmering lights of the Barcelona airport. “How far away is the hotel?”

“Not far, babe, don’t worry.” Brendon kissed Dallon’s forehead and wrapped his arm around his shoulders. “C’mon, get up.”

Dallon begrudgingly took his head off Brendon’s shoulder and sat up. “You’ll get through the border fine, right?”

“Yeah, I will.” Brendon nodded. “Ryan and Jon managed it, and _I’m_ supposed to be the one with a Mormon family that cut me off for being bisexual that could never knew I was missing.”

“You never told me about that.”

“Yeah, we’ll get into that some other time.”

 

When they got off the plane and found their suitcases at the baggage claim, they found their taxi driver holding a sign saying, _BRENDON URIE_. He greeted them in his thickly-accented English, and led them to his cab. They began the drive from the airport to the city, and while Brendon eagerly conversed with the driver, Dallon found himself with his head leaned on the window and admiring the city lights. He cursed himself for not being alert; even if you weren’t a hunter in a city like Chicago overrun with vampires, you had to constantly be on the watch for vampires to live. Luckily, Spain had done a pretty good job keeping the vampire population low. According to all the travelling forums Dallon perused in worry, it was estimated there were only ten in Barcelona compared to the thousands in Chicago. There were almost too many threads of concerned families asking about their safety and if they could technically apply for asylum.

He had only Brendon to worry about, and Brendon had proved himself to be trustworthy. Yet, there was still a nagging fear there. What if they ran out of blood substitutes? What if Dallon accidentally cut himself? He didn’t even want to get himself started on how dangerous Brendon being around all the people at the concert would be. Then again, he knew he was sleep-deprived. There was no way these thoughts were rational. Brendon was fine, but Dallon just couldn’t shake a feeling as the Spanish music playing softly on the radio lulled him to sleep.

 

Dallon slept while the curtains were drawn, and awoke to Brendon chatting on the phone.

“Yeah, everything’s going good. The plane landed at night, and we got to the hotel quick, too.” He said. “Yeah, we’re heading out whenever Dallon wakes up-- no! We didn’t have sex, shut up, that’s none of your business. Pete, give the phone back to Patrick.”

Dallon couldn’t help but sleepily giggle, and Brendon smiled at him. After talking a little more, he hung up the phone and sat next to where was Dallon was on the bed, ruffling his hair and pressing a kiss to his cheek.

“Morning, Dallon. Or night.” Brendon smiled. “I need you to help me choose between my outfits.”

“Sure, what’s the options?” He asked, sitting up and yawning.

“Okay, so first we’ve got the dapper outfit.” Brendon picked up a black button-down shirt, skinny jeans, and a sparkly gold suit jacket.

“That’s certainly dapper.” Dallon agreed. “What’s option 2?”

“Band t-shirt and the skinny jeans.” Brendon held up a Young Veins shirt, Ryan’s band. “What do you think?”

“Definitely the shirt if you want to fit in.”

“I mean, I don’t wanna fit in. I want him to see me clear as day.”

“He will, we’re in the front row.” Dallon assured. “I’m gonna start calling you Mr. Disco if you put that sparkly jacket on.”

Brendon smirked, picking up the jacket and shrugging it on over his shoulders. “Fine, call me Mr. Disco all you want.”

“You’re seriously gonna wear that? Ryan will notice you just fine.”

“Yeah, but it’s even more eye-grabbing this way.” Brendon slid off the jacket in order to get changed into the outfit from the comfy t-shirt and sweatpants he had worn on the plane that made him look like he was prancing around the airport in pajamas. He pulled off the t-shirt with ease, revealing his toned stomach. It wasn’t anything Dallon hadn’t seen before, but damn, it sure made him thirsty. “It looks like the sun is already setting, let’s head out in an hour for the concert. Missing the opening act won’t deprive you much, right?”

“Yeah, I don’t think I care much for…” Dallon attempted to recall the band. “I don’t know, but nobody likes the opening band, anyway.”

“Cool, let’s get ready.” Brendon said, kissing Dallon’s cheek and scurrying into the bathroom.

 

The venue’s size was considerably larger than they both thought it would be. It was nothing compared to arenas, but Brendon observed it was larger than some crowds Fall Out Boy had played.

Brendon and Dallon made their way to the front seats, sitting and watching while the opening band’s setup was taken away and replaced with that of the Young Veins. With every piece of equipment set down, Dallon could tell Brendon was getting more and more nervous. Whilst holding his hand, Brendon would constantly run his fingers over Dallon’s and adjust his posture every few seconds.

“You doing okay?” Dallon asked.

“Yep.” Brendon nodded. “Just excited to show Ryan how much better I’m doing than him. I’m gonna give you the hugest kiss during that one romantic song.”

“Sure.” Dallon internally grimaced. Not that he wasn’t excited to kiss Brendon, but his obsession with his ex that took them all the way to Spain was less than optimal. How did he even convince Fall Out Boy to let him come here? There had to be more to it than he already bought the tickets and he didn’t want to waste money.

The room began to darken again, and the crowd buzzed in anticipation, starting to chant, “Ryan! Jon! Ryan! Jon! Ryan! Ryan! Jon!” and less commonly, a few other names.

“Fuck, it’s starting, it’s starting!” Brendon squeed, almost a little too happily, standing along with the rest of the audience. An opening track began to play, and in a single file line, they walked out. Some dudes he didn’t know with guitars and a keyboard, and then in the back of the line, Dallon recognized Ryan and Jon. The crowd roared with cheering, as Ryan took his place at the microphone in the dark. Through the darkness, he could see him strum a note on his guitar, sending the fans into a frenzy.

“Hey.”

The crowd cheered yet again, as he said that one word into the microphone.

The riff to the first song began to be strummed, and the stage lit up, casting a light onto Ryan. Dallon could see why Brendon found him attractive; he did have an aesthetically appealing face and style, but definitely a bit skinny and boyish looking. He looked more like a member of a boy band than a formerly-threatening Dandy vampire.

Dallon glanced over to Brendon, to gauge his reaction. Brendon looked in awe, starstruck, his eyes shining. He probably thought he’d never see him again. His lips were parted just a bit in surprise, looking up at Ryan and letting out the quietest gasp.

Meanwhile, Ryan’s attention so far wasn’t on the front row. He hadn’t taken notice of the glittery jacket right in front of him, instead switching between looking at his guitar and surveying the wide crowd. It took until he began singing to start looking at the front row, starting from his vision going from right to left like he was reading Hebrew. One by one, he saw each face for a fleeting quarter of a second before moving onto the next; it felt like it had been eternity before he had reached them.

Ryan’s eyes landed on Brendon, his pupils widening in shock. His guitar strumming grew more cautious, and took a strangled breath between lyrics while he ejected lyrics and processed Brendon’s face.

The lights shone blue onto Brendon’s face while him and Ryan made eye contact. It was hard for Dallon to decide what Ryan’s current emotions were, since he had to put on a mask for the stage. Was he nostalgic? Angry? Confused? At the same time, he couldn’t exactly decipher Brendon’s present feelings either. Maybe it was a glimmer of hope in his demeanor, but Ryan could also equally be stinging him.

Ryan eventually took his eyes off of Brendon and looked at the rest of the crowd, although you could tell there were gears churning inside his head the whole time. After he finished looking across the front rows, Ryan struggled to sing without his glance flickering to Brendon every so often.

Ryan’s gaze returned to Brendon’s face once more. This time, he smiled directly at him, and it looked so incredibly genuine. However, what filled Dallon with a simmering, hot, feeling was the fact Brendon smiled back like he did when he met Dallon.

As time went on, Dallon could see that Brendon found himself enjoying the music. Even during the song that was supposed to be about him in a negative way, he swayed along and nodded his head. 

Dallon stood there in stillness and found himself looking over at Brendon again and again. Maybe Brendon was just being nice when he smiled back at Ryan. Maybe Brendon was just one of those guys who couldn’t resist dancing to music (the band was really catchy, after all). And there was still the romantic song Brendon has promised to kiss Dallon at. And after the concert they would go out to eat at a local restaurant or go to a club, then go back to the hotel room and hopefully still have enough energy to fuck. This shared smile was in no way the be-all and end-all, at least to Dallon.

Another song began, and Dallon recognized it as the romantic song. He expected Brendon to turn to Dallon and lean in; but his eyes were fixated on Ryan. Almost too much on his ex-boyfriend and not his current one. The ex-boyfriend who had run without him, not the current one who was probably the least annoying person that helped him adjust to a more ‘“human” life with morals. Not the current one who he said he would kiss. Not the current one he said he would have sex with. Not the current one who had trusted him enough to give him his number, despite knowing he was Brendon Urie.

Ryan stepped off of the stage and began to walk through the crowd, which screamed and cheered. He gave a few high fives to the eager fans, and even looked directly at a few of them while he sang.

Dallon kept waiting and waiting for Brendon to so much as look away from Ryan; but he was absolutely entranced.

“Brendon.” Dallon said, but the roar of the crowd and blaring of Ryan’s singing drowned him out. “Brendon!”

Brendon turned around to look at Dallon, but before Dallon could lean in, Ryan passed by and tapped on Brendon’s shoulder. Like an eager dog, he whipped around to face Ryan.

Dallon felt a bubbling, churning hotness inside of him, although he couldn’t tell it was embarrassment or envy. Whatever it was, it was definitely because his own boyfriend was ignoring him, for his ex.

And it stung like a bitch.

Ryan whispered something into Brendon’s ear, probably sweet nothings, and then hopped back into the stage a grin on their faces. A few fans talked amongst themselves, looking between Brendon and Ryan suggestively. _He’s mine! Not Ryan’s!_ , Dallon cried internally.

The song ended, Brendon’s gaze still on Ryan. 

 

Dallon sank down in his seat, dabbing his eyes with his sleeve and inhaling. By now there were probably a few songs left, and he needed to go the bathroom.

“I’m going to use the bathroom.” Dallon shouted to Brendon, amidst all the loud music.

Brendon looked over, and quickly nodded. The dimness masked Dallon’s red-tinted eyes, so he probably didn’t see he was close to sobbing. Or maybe he ignored it. It didn’t really matter as Dallon pushed past the sea of standing people to the entrance. Because Brendon still liked Ryan.

_Stop thinking. Just get to the bathroom._

He reached the back, and yelled out to the security guard in the best Spanish accent he could muster, “Dondé está el baño?”

“Siga el corredor.” The security guard answered in a sturdy voice that matched his build.

“Gracias.” Dallon headed into the empty hall and saw the men’s bathroom straight away. He walked towards it. He had plenty of time to waste.

Dallon swung open the door, and looked into the mirror. His cheeks were tear-stained; his expression was heartbroken. How could Brendon not even notice?

 

Of course, the most obvious course of action next was to cry. 

So Dallon did. He sobbed, his arms shaking as he held himself up on the sink dripping with his disappointment. If anything were to go wrong with him and Brendon’s relationship, he would have expected to already be dead and not crying in a bathroom all the way in Spain. So far, it seemed so perfect aside from the whole Ryan thing.

After a few minutes, Dallon caught his breath and grabbed a paper towel. He dabbed his face with it, trying to breathe at steady intervals to calm himself down. In, out, in, out.

The blasting bass stopped vibrating, and he could tell the concert was probably ending. He had been in there for a really long time, Brendon had to be worried by now. Dallon threw the paper towel away, checking his eyes to make sure they looked better, and quickly walked out to find Brendon before he was lost in the crowd. He was starving and eager to scarf down whatever paella he could find.

Dallon ran back into the auditorium, down to him and Brendon’s seats. As he made his way down his row while the lights were turned on and equipment was being carried off the stage, he found two empty seats instead of Brendon and one.

He turned around, looking. There was only the bland faces of the audience already preparing to leave, and no glittery jackets in sight.

“Brendon?” Dallon called out. “Brendon?” He didn’t automatically appear at that, either.

A crew member on the stage jumped off, and asked in possibly the worst Spanish accent, “Amigo de Brendon Urie?”

“Yes!” Dallon nodded, running over. Boyfriend, really, but he really couldn’t be picky right now. “You know where he is?”

The crew member nodded. “Ryan Ross wanted to talk to him after the concert. I’ll take you backstage.”

He held out a hand to hoist Dallon up to the stage, but Dallon froze. His heart sank. Suddenly, his stomach felt so empty.

Dallon reached out for his hand, and effortlessly was lifted up. The crew member’s grasp was freezing; he must probably be another vampire. Not surprising, of course a band with vampires would feel more comfortable around vampires.

He motioned for Dallon to follow him, and they began walking to the side of the stage and then behind it. Guitars were being placed into boxes and carried out. The mixture of British and Spanish accents behind the stage only made it feel more unfamiliar to Dallon, and something about the strangeness of it all made him nauseous. The plan was leave and get paella. This was an unpredicted, undiscussed, and absolutely unwanted step in it all.

It was cold outside, colder than Dallon expected. They walked to where the tour bus is parked outside, and the crew member rapped on the door.

“Ryan!” He called out, in his booming Newcastle accent, “Brendon’s friend is here!”

“Jeez, might as well bring the whole concert!” Ryan’s muffled voice complained. “Brendon will be out in a minute. Brendon, dépêchons!”

It took more than a minute, but more like, more than that. Dallon and the crew member made some small talk. He found out the crew member was someone named Tim (from Newcastle), and yeah, he is a vampire. A nice one, though. Apparently he survives on rats (it sounds definitely less pleasant than the blend, though). He had a very vague story of his turning, but of course that was a touchy subject. Dallon thought it’d been seven minutes while he recounted his journey from dedicated Mormon to vampire hunter to Tim, and just as he got to the part where he almost got turned for probably the sixth time in Colorado (or was it Nevada?), the bus door was opened and Brendon stepped out with messy hair and his jacket falling off of his shoulders.

“Ready to go, Dal?” Brendon asked. He seemed to be paying more attention to fixing his jacket than Dallon and Tim.

“Why were you with Ryan?” Dallon asked. Tim took the cue to leave then before it escalated.

“Let’s talk about it over that paella you were talking so much about.” Brendon straightened his jacket and smoothed his hair over, reaching to wrap his arm around his shoulder. Dallon stepped back, and Brendon’s arm fell back to his side, disappointed. “Everything okay?”

“Yeah.” Dallon said. “Let’s go. The restaurant closes in an hour.”

In silence, they walked away from the tour bus and down the narrow street at a quick pace. The streetlamps glowed over them, illuminating Brendon’s face in an angelic radiance he didn’t deserve. It annoyed Dallon, how he could look so innocent yet be so guilty at the time. He shouldn’t have trusted him. He shouldn’t have gone to Spain with him after knowing him for only so long, especially just so he could see his ex. So stupid.

“Are you sure everything is okay?” Brendon asked.

“I just didn’t expect you to go hanging out with your ex-boyfriend right after the concert.” Dallon stated. “If it wasn’t for Tim, I would have had no idea where you were.”

“It was only supposed to be for a minute, I’m really sorry.” He confessed. “Nothing happened in that bus but a friendly chat, I swear.”

“Friendly chat? You didn’t come here for a friendly chat.” Dallon stopped walking, turning around to face Brendon. “You came here to annoy him or whatever.”

“I just couldn’t be mad at him as soon as I saw him.” He said. “I guess you guys really took all of the Dandy out of me, didn’t ‘ya?”

“Stick to the point. What did you talk about?”

“The good times. Reminiscing on before the whole vampire thing, I guess.”

“The time when you guys were dating.”

“We didn’t reminisce on the romance, just me and Spence and him and Jon as a group of normal human friends, I guess. And we started talking about where we are now. He knows about you, of course. It’s all fine, really. I’m sorry, I should have waited for you, but I didn’t think I would go all the way up to his tour bus and talk for that long. And we were speaking in French, habit, you know? And our French is still pretty iffy and it can be hard to find the right words and shit, so-”

“Let’s just get our fucking paella.” Dallon turned around. “We’re in Spain, I don’t give a fuck about your French right now.”

He whipped around, and began marching forward again in the direction of the restaurant.

“Dallon, please, can we just talk? I’m really sorry, and nothing happened-”

“Can I just go get some food in peace?” He demanded. “Please, would it kill you to wait until after I’ve enjoyed my-”

Brendon grabbed Dallon’s shoulder, spinning him around and kissing him hard. It was a bit sloppy at first, but Dallon melted into it as their lips were connected for a few seconds.

“Dallon. I. Love. You.” Brendon pulled away, leaning his forehead against Dallon’s. At this short distance, he could almost see the care in his eyes. The love. “I love you in a romantic way. If I could, I would be with you forever.”

“Really?” Dallon asked, not being able to help cracking a smile.

“And I’ll prove it to you tonight, if you’re not too tired.” Brendon said suggestively, winking. Dallon closed his eyes, grinning and blushing.

“Yes. Definitely.” Dallon giggled. “Wow, I’d love that.”

“You’re such a virgin, Weekes.” Brendon joked. “You’re too cute. C’mon, let’s get that paella.”

“Okay.” Dallon giggled again. “Yes.”

Brendon took his hand, and they raced down the street to the restaurant.

 

“Gracias.” Dallon said, a hot plate of paella being placed in front of him. The waitress left, and he automatically began scooping of the steaming heaps of rice and shrimp.

“That looks so good.” Brendon envied, taking a sip of his wine. Unfortunately, with the whole vampire thing, he couldn’t sample it. “Dallon, there’s something I gotta tell you.”

The candle flickered between them. “Yeah, what?”

“Ryan told me he thinks Beckett is still alive.”

The spoon Dallon held up to his mouth fell onto his plate, clanging onto the ceramic. The whoosh of air from the spoon falling blew the weak flame of the candle out, unnoticeable in the moment. “No way.”

“I couldn’t believe it either.”

“Well, did you see him die?” Dallon demanded. “You told me you saw him die, right in front of your eyes. Not how, but you did see him die… right?”

“Well…” Brendon began. “We did succeed in staking him and dragging him out in the sunrise. I didn’t see him burn myself, I had to leave. He was pretty much dead by then.” 

 

His skin was becoming embers, his century-old eyes blank and milky. William’s lips were chapped and resembled the color of pale coffee creamer, while his porcelain flesh flaked away under the watchful gaze of day. The familiar color of red bled out over his clothing, out of the gap left by the wooden stake that Brendon himself had stabbed. In the middle of a parking lot covered in cracks outside of a decrepit warehouse, the light creeped from the shadows to his corpse. He was irrevocably dead, and Brendon had passed the test. Brendon was now worthy of humanization and access to any cure that could come along, while William, who had once been so sweet and addictive, was gone. Everyone thought he didn’t have a soul; in the moment Brendon had driven the wooden stake in and for long after that, he constantly wondered if there was anything in there that could have been salvaged, anything that he could have tried to reform or anything that could have gone to heaven. For so long, he had seen past the bloodshed for this man he idolized.

If anything, Brendon would have expected William’s immediate reaction to be anger when he had attacked him in his sleep. It was. His eyes had snapped open, and he shoved Brendon against the wall. Brendon drove the stake in, again, again, until blood was coughed across his face and the grip on his neck fell. Along with the burning fury, he saw disappointment in William’s eyes, a need to understand.

“Brendon, how could you do this to me?” He was asked in a voice intermingled with desperation and shock. “I taught you, I loved you, I _trusted_ you.”

Tears had fallen from his eyes. Brendon had never seen him cry.

“Adieu.” Brendon had sobbed, before drying his own tears and carrying out William’s body for the rest of the hunters to see. Pete wasn’t too happy; he was keen on avenging himself, but Brendon felt like it was only fitting he did it. William brought him into this "life", so Brendon had to bring him out.

Brendon had to leave soon after he placed him to burn outside so he wouldn’t depart with him. He never saw his ashes, but it wasn’t like he wanted to. He went back to Fall Out Boy’s place and pretended to get drunk in celebration, not mourning. William Beckett was dead, Brendon Urie had some humanity left in him; it was certainly a historical turning point appropriate for a party. The Dandies wouldn’t fare longer without their two leaders. And while there were still a few Dandies out there, William and Brendon were the glue that had held them together, so the Dandies soon after became just another small and powerless coven with shrinking territory.

 

“ But… then how did he not reassume his leadership? You know he’s the kind of guy that likes to throw in everyone’s faces that he’s still alive and prove he’s undefeatable.” Dallon said. “He can’t be alive. The number of vampire attacks in Chicago has actually stayed at a steady rate for months instead of increasing exponentially. People expected it would be in the hundreds of thousands by the end of the decade and that we’d be wiped out, but the human population of Chicago is still increasing. If Beckett was still alive, you know that Chicago would be a goner. The Dandies would number in the thousands.”

“He’s in hiding.” Brendon explained. “Left Chicago. He had thoughts of leaving before, but the Dandies were doing so well. Now that Chicago is pretty much dominated by vampires, faking his death would just be an opportunity to sneak slyly out and put himself in history books again for overrunning another refuge city with vampires.”

“So how does Ryan know he’s alive?” Dallon didn’t believe it.

“He wrote to him.” Brendon said. “In his own handwriting, making sure to include only things that him and Ryan knew about. Just a month ago. Telling him I tried to kill him because I had been poisoned by the hunters.”

“Why would he send a letter to him, after he betrayed him?”

“To meet up with him.” Brendon said. “Ryan wouldn’t tell me what they talked about exactly.”

“But there’s no way he, out of everyone, would go back to Beckett, right?” Dallon reaffirmed. Brendon didn’t respond, looking down into his wine. “Right?”

“He told me he’s changed.” Brendon said. “Beckett wants to talk to me.”

“What?” Dallon demanded.

“He’s here.” Brendon whispered under his breath, like he couldn’t believe it either.

“Barcelona?” Dallon muttered. “No way, no way he’s in Barcelona. Brendon, we’re _fucked!_ ”

“Not Barcelona.” Brendon shook his head. “He’s in Madrid, the next tour stop. Somewhere in the city.”

“We have to leave the country right away.” Dallon said. “Like, any flight we can get on to the U.S. Wherever the fuck there’s a free seat. One of the hunters I know has enough frequent flyer miles he said I could use in case of something like this.”

Dallon moved to push out his chair, but Brendon grabbed his hand that was on the table, stopping him.

“No, it’s fine. He won’t hurt you. He doesn’t even know the exact city we’re in.”

“Sure, that might be what Ryan is saying, but can you really trust him and Beckett? Brendon, you have to fucking let go of them. It’s in the past. We have to inform the Spanish government of his whereabouts right away. We have to get to the airport or U.S. Consulate and fucking get out. He’s the most dangerous vampire in the U.S., if not the _world_.”

“We. Will. Be. Fine.” Brendon reassured Dallon, stroking his hand. “Please, let’s go to Madrid tomorrow, for just the day. It doesn’t even have to be with Ryan and Jon’s band, we’ll take the train or rent a car. Preferably the train, it’s quicker.”

“But you feel like getting tricked by Beckett? Putting my life and your life in danger?”

“Please, Dallon, it will be so quick. Just don’t tell Fall Out Boy.” Brendon begged. “I just need a release from my vampire life, and this is it. Me and Beckett will just talk.”

“He’s going to hurt you, Brendon. He isn’t going to want to talk.”

“If he was merciful to Ryan, he will be with me.”

“Ryan didn’t try to kill him.”

“He’s changed!”

“And apparently you haven’t!” Dallon said, as loud of a whisper as possible. “Look, go ahead to Madrid by yourself tonight, if that’s really what pleases you. But if you’re not back by the time I go to bed tomorrow, I’m telling Fall Out Boy and I’m going to book a flight by myself out of the country for that day.”

“Don’t worry.” Brendon picked up Dallon’s hand, which he still held, kissing it. “I’ll prove to you tonight that I’ll return. Now, enjoy your paella before it gets cold.”

“Fine.” Dallon grumbled. “You better be really good tonight.”

“Even better than that.” Brendon whispered against his hand. It was really hard to be mad at that smirk. Really, really, really, hard.

 

Dallon finished his paella along with approximately 3 glasses of wine after that conversation, and began the walk with Brendon back to the hotel just as the restaurant began to close. It was almost midnight, and the streets were silent except for the giggles Brendon managed to finally coax out of Dallon.

Finally, they reached the hotel, and as soon as they travelled up the stairs and their room door was locked behind them, Brendon began to press kisses to the back of Dallon’s neck.

“You ready?” He whispered into his ear, pressing another kiss behind it.

“I don’t know.” Dallon said. “Tonight doesn’t seem like a good time, now that I think about it. We should wait until another night.”

“Any time is a good time for sex.” Brendon tried to assure him. “I’m really sorry about everything I’ve said today. Let me make it up to you.”

“Tomorrow, I swear. Let’s get our sleep, it’s almost midnight.”

“Oh, come on, please.” Brendon laced his hand with Dallon’s, leaning his head on his shoulder.

“Brendon, no matter how many glasses of wine I drink, I’m still not going to forget that you’re literally going to see William Beckett with your ex-boyfriend.”

“Dal…”

“When you get back, we’ll have sex, okay?” Dallon promised.

“Yeah.” Brendon grumbled. “Sure, sounds good. Ryan said he’ll pick me up soon, anyway.”

Dallon let out a sigh at the mention of that name, but it went unnoticed. He drifted into slumber, while Brendon opened the creaky hotel door and left.

 

Brendon and Ryan took the train since it was much quicker, rushing to catch the last train leaving. The tour bus would follow to Madrid although it would arrive in early morning, allowing Brendon and Ryan ample time to speak with William.

The train car was almost empty, aside from one tired university-age student drifting away in the back. His peaceful sleep made Brendon wonder how Dallon was faring, but his train of thought dissipated as soon as Ryan spoke.

“How are you feeling?” He asked, as the train began to chug along.

“I don’t know.” Brendon shrugged, glancing at the buildings passing by as they picked up speed. “Nervous?”

“He won’t hurt us.” Ryan promised. “And if he somehow does on the low chance, we’ll get out of there alright. He’s been weakened for a while even though he’s recovered quite a lot, from your… you know.”

“That’s what I’m worried about. I tried to kill him.”

The train slightly swung back and forth, and fields came into view. Orchards seemed to catapult past them as they accelerated to full speed, and it felt as if the stars were flying at them.

“He’ll forgive us.” Ryan reassured, giving Brendon a friendly smile and squeezing his hand. “Like... I thought I couldn’t forgive you, and you thought you couldn’t forgive me, but here we are.”

Even Ryan’s curly _eyelashes_ when he blinked felt so peaceful, along with his low whisper and the serenity of the nature racing by their windows, flashing through the reflections in their eyes. The way the moon’s light lit the frame of his face and his neck reminded him of back in Chicago, when he had just dragged his fangs out of a poor human, gasping for air through his bloody lips and Brendon would approach to kiss him and lick his lips. The angle of the moon currently in Spain seemed to recreate it all too perfectly, and the long-suppressed feelings of warmth and lust rose in his chest.

No, he _had_ to remember Dallon. He loved Dallon. He didn’t love Ryan, they were only friends.

“Quiet suddenly, huh?” Ryan asked. “What’s wrong?”

It was as if he could see straight through Brendon’s eyes, the yearning that passed through for the handsome, lean, beautiful man right in front of him.

“Just thinking of the right words.” Brendon lied, which was easy to pass off since they were again communicating in French as usual. “I guess we’ll just have to see what happens with Beckett.”

“Yeah.” Ryan bit his lip, looking out the window at the orchards. He was almost too much to handle, and Brendon knew there still had to be some crazy vampire adrenaline left over from the show that made him desperate to know him in a biblical context again. Bite his neck, lap up the non-nutritious blood running down his shoulders and splattered on his jaw, and make him throw his head back in the moment of it all. Shit, it was so tempting.

While Brendon inspected his face, licking the inside of his lips at the tantalizing thoughts, Ryan looked back to see his wandering eyes. They knew by that look they wanted, no, they _needed_ the same thing. They were already on a train to see Beckett, why not bring something else from the past back?

“Do you really love him?” Ryan wondered out loud. “Or is it because he’s a hunter and could snap your spine with a crossbow?”

“I love him.” Brendon said, very matter-of-factly, but followed up a second later with a softer “But I’m not _in_ love with him.”

“Do you think you were ever in love with me?” Ryan smirked, the words dancing across his tongue in his enticing French, but he already knew the answer. He didn’t need to ask.

It didn’t take a moment of hesitation for Brendon to say it. “Of course I am, stupid.”

“No was?”

“No was.” Their faces inched closer, and the tension grew thick in the compact train car. It was a mere moment until their lips touched, and a long twenty minutes before they pulled apart. Every so often during the train ride, as long as the one other passenger was still asleep, their lips swooped in on the other’s.

There was no boiling pit of regret or guilt, no sunken feeling of shame burdening his shoulders. Brendon knew Dallon would be mad if he found out, and yet, he had no real care to apply toward it.

 

Brendon didn’t know what he expected when he was about to meet Beckett. As him and Ryan walked from the train station, he probably was thinking more like a shady abandoned building or a decrepit cellar. Not a luxurious hotel. Even he didn’t know Beckett had _that_ much money, enough for Brendon preparing to come face to face with him in front of the door to a penthouse suite.

Ryan gave Brendon one last look to make sure he looked composed and ready, and he knocked his fist on the door. Three times, pausing once, knocking two more times.

Brendon heard the faint sound of steps across the floor inside, and the click of the door unlocking. Utter panic filled him for a moment as the door swung open and revealed the ultimate proof that William Beckett was indeed not dead.

“Come inside, quickly.” He said, eyes darting back and forth to survey the hallway. 

Ryan, then Brendon, stepped inside, and the door was quickly shut and locked behind them. William turned around, clasping his hands together and giving a sophisticated smile. Under the light emitted by a chandelier, Brendon saw the faint pink scars in the process of healing across his neck, face, hands, from the sun’s monstrous glow. However, his eyes still shone with ambition the same as they had before, and they seemed to still perceive and look upon Brendon the same as before his near-defeat. He wore a suit different from that of the trademark of the Dandies, but its appearance was just as ancient and fitting to his visage of power as the former uniform.

“Well, it’s been quite a while, has it not?” William remarked. “What a sight for sore eyes the both of you are! Come, take a seat.”

He gestured with his hand to the couch by the wide window that stretched the length of the floor to the ceiling, overlooking the historical city of Madrid and its buildings under the artificial light. Brendon and Ryan took a seat, and William poured for them a glass of warmed blood from a wine bottle. Brendon didn’t even want to know the source of the human blood, he was only eager to finally drink the real stuff again.

“Well, before we come to the serious parts of the conversation, how has life been treating the both of you?” William asked. “Ryan, I should have expected you to be the star. Always been such a talented singer.”

“Yeah, it’s going good.” Ryan said. “Barcelona was all sold out.”

“That’s so wonderful to hear, I’m glad to hear you have been doing well.” William said, and Brendon could barely believe how pleased he sounded. “Your all too low position in the Dandies was too much pressure for you to conform to, you were one of the few I saw as destined for more. You have immense potential, and now you are as free as a butterfly. Brendon, how have you been?”

“Good. Doing this and that.” Brendon’s voice trembled, missing a few of the French accents over the vowels.

“Oh, you look dreadful, Brendon.” William cooed. “Please, do not fear for yourself, I could not stay mad at you for long. I know you have been misguided by the hunters of Fall Out Boy, blinded to be a tool for their nefarious intentions. However, you are in Spain now and you may do as you please, including associating with me tonight.”

William took a collected sip from his glass, his sympathetic eyes watchful over his former second-in-command. Brendon still stared back at him in terror.

“Please, don’t be scared to speak to me.” William said in English, adopting a more casual form of speech in hopes of easing him.

“Really, Brendon, there’s nothing to be afraid of.” Ryan comforted him.

“Oh, well…” Brendon gulped a sip of blood down from the glass, “I’m sorry for trying to kill you.”

“Water under the bridge.” William waved it off. “Really, it’s nothing to worry about. I know it’s Fall Out Boy’s fault. Whatever casual conversation is on your mind, go for it. How has tonight been?”

“It’s been a good night so far.” Brendon said, the shakiness finally passing from his voice. “I went to Ryan’s concert, and it was really good. And I watched someone eat paella, and it could almost compare to blood, I guess. It smelled nice.”

“So, you have a friend with you on this trip?” William inquired. “A human, I’m going to guess.”

Well, cat was out of the bag. It wasn’t like Brendon expected he would be able to hide it well, anyways. “Yeah. My boyfriend.”

“You have a human boyfriend? Well, congratulations!” William exclaimed. “When are you thinking of turning him?”

“Ah, well, we haven’t exactly discussed that.” Brendon bit his tongue, and took another sip of blood.

“Well, it’s better to think about giving him the gift before he becomes old and gray, just saying, but I’m getting ahead of myself.” William said. “I contacted you because I needed to discuss something. Starting anew, reforming ourselves.”

“What would that entail, exactly?” Ryan requested, narrowing his eyebrows and looking on with curiosity.

“I want to restore our past lives, but in a different way.” William began to explain. “I want to start a new, better coven, with the both of you on equal footing with me as leaders.”

“What about Jon?”

“Fuck Jon.” William said. “I mean, he can be in the coven if he likes, but music is his calling, not leadership. Is Spencer still around? Do you think this is something he’d like?”

“He left before anyone could catch him.” Brendon admitted. “No clue where he is. Maybe dead, maybe in Shanghai. Tell us more about the coven.”

“Alright, I suppose it’ll just be the three of us.” William nodded, and he gestured to the view of the city. “I was thinking of a large city like this, of course, since cities are always the best place for a coven. Lots of prey, plenty of underground fixtures, many hiding spots to choose from. I think we could really take over Europe if we wanted to. The vampires here… they’re so passive. It’s like they want to act... _human_. Absurd.”

Ryan nodded in agreement. Brendon did also, although a bit more tentatively.

“Any cities in mind?” Ryan asked.

“Not at the moment.” William shook his head. “There are plenty of opportunities, though. Stockholm, Budapest, Amsterdam, Munich, Marseille, Venice, are just a few of the cities practically _untouched_. We’ll take our pick of any city, I can almost guarantee it’ll be an easy win.”

“So, we’re doing this coven to do what?” Ryan asked.

“Reconsolidate our power.” William said, running his fingers over the top of the wineglass. “Everyone in Chicago is probably laughing at us, how weak we are, right, Brendon? You can’t say that you haven’t heard anything so far from the truth about me, right?”

“Yeah.” Brendon said after thinking, and hissed, “It happens a lot. It’s like we were never more than a joke. Nobody really remembers... the _grip_ we had on them.”

“That’s what I would imagine.” William tsked. “Imagine taking over an entire continent. Europe in our hands, its fate under our complete control.”

“That is quite a picture you paint there.” Brendon said. “But if I don’t return to Chicago, Fall Out Boy will kill me.”

“They said such things to you?” William seemed horrified. “They must think you’re weak now, but Dandies are _anything but that_. You can’t return back there, back to their hostility. _Stay_ in Europe, before your mind is completely marred like poor Pete’s was. You’ll become so much more than all the naysayers could have thought. Even your parents would be begging for mercy.”

“Wow.” Brendon finally said. “It is quite an idea…”

“I’ll even allow you to get your mortal boyfriend in on this, since he should be turned eventually, anyway.” William offered. “You really can’t refuse this, Brendon. You’re not a human, you’re a _vampire_ , and you can’t fall to your knees for hunters any longer. You can’t teach a cat to act like a dog. Do you really think they can afford to fly all the way here to hunt you down? You’re on a completely different continent now, and they can’t so much as touch you.”

Brendon considered his words, as William looked at him expectantly. Thick silence hung in the air as the gears in his brain churned.

Ryan quickly said, “I’m in, as long as my position is secret for now. I want to keep up the music for at least another album, and then I’ll devote myself to the coven.”

“Wonderful!” William grinned, fangs prominent. “Brendon, consider my words, I ask you.”

He thought of his treatment by Fall Out Boy, and really, how demeaning it was. Brendon had been cut off human blood almost right away and put on the blend, and it gave him hell-like withdrawal symptoms for weeks that was even more agonizing than his turning. He could never get any real alone time; he was treated more as a pet or experiment and always watched. He was never trusted, especially by Andy, and it hurt when they knew he looked to them for guidance on his journey. He was promised the cure to vampirism as soon as it was created, but if he slipped up or made one mistake in the meantime, he would be killed. Pete wasn’t perfect in the beginning, but there seemed to be highly preferential treatment towards him. Hell, they had expected Brendon to aid in killing his own creator to prove his willingness to be redeemed.

At least in the Dandies, he was respected. He was cherished by William, and he had the friendship of Ryan, Jon, and Spencer. There was no punishment for little first mistakes, only guidance. There was a determination to do something, be someone, and vampirism gave each one of them the power to do it, starting with bloodshed and ending up in the corruption of the entire police department. Brendon knew he had dreaded the Dandies while within it, but now that he had experienced a taste of “human” life, he craved his past ever so much. Now that he and Ryan would on equal footing with William, he would have more of a role, more power, more fear and intimidation surrounding him. Brendon would help build an entire coven from the ground up, take a higher position in society, and watch so many humans and hunters crumble beneath his feet.

The thought of all the hot blood he would get to swallow again from a wry neck, to spill from his wrist in the gaping mouths of those who would turn; it was such an exhilarating thought that pulsed throughout him. He took a sharp intake of breath, tongue running over the sharp tips of one of his fangs, and William smiled, knowing he had made his decision.

Brendon had tried and failed at the “peaceful” life Pete struggled by on, and he knew he was meant for more, so much more than despising what he was meant to be.

“ _Yes._ ” Brendon had a wicked smile on his lips, his eyes lost in the visions of his thoughts of what could be. He finally focused his eyes at William and gasped with ultimate joy, “Yes, let’s do it.”

William’s gleeful laugh was almost a cackle, and they all poured themselves another glass of blood. They all clinked their glasses together, chiming “Cheers!” and took a long and heady sip. Their faces as pale as ashes beamed with the brightness of claiming an even higher reputation than before. As morning approached, the heavy and opaque curtains were drawn, a “Do Not Disturb/No Molestar” sign was strung on their doorknob, and the coffee table was overtaken with notes and papers stretching across the entire length and width of it, detailing their ambitions.

 

So far, Dallon was enjoying his time being a tourist, even though he felt so alone. He visited a Gothic Cathedral and made sure to take plenty of majestic pictures in the daylight for Brendon to see, took a stroll around Ciutadella Park and perused the zoo, ate tapas in El Poblenou, and bought a few souvenirs, even a book in Spanish since he now decided he would try to improve what little Spanish he learned in school. Almost everywhere, as he took in the breathtaking sights in awe, he would turn around to exclaim to Brendon at the beauty of all of it, but he was only reminded he wasn’t there to see it. However, it still was gorgeous, and if Brendon had been there with him, he would have been okay with it being his last day on earth.

_It’s okay_ , he reassured himself. As soon as Brendon got back from Madrid, they would go see all of the sights again and embrace the magnificent views in the night. As soon as Dallon connected to the WiFi in a hip restaurant waiting for his dinner to be served, he received a message from Brendon that he had just boarded a train back to Barcelona. See? He had nothing to worry about, or so he thought.

**How did it go?** , Dallon texted him back.

**Good, really excited to get back to Barcelona to see you <3**, Brendon texted a few minutes later. **I’ll tell you all about it when I’m back.**

**Safe travels <3**

 

A few minutes after Dallon had gotten back to the hotel and settled down, laying back in bed and watching television, he heard the click of the door unlocking and footsteps in the entryway.

“Hey, Brendon!” Dallon called out, as he heard the door close. “Babe, tell me how it went.”

“Yeah, just a second.” He said, and Dallon heard the throwing of his shoes on the floor. Brendon came into the main area of the room, and smiled warmly at Dallon. “I brought someone with me, if you don’t mind.”

“Who did you bring?” Dallon asked, already rightfully suspicious.

An all but familiar face stepped in. He had never seen him this close before, and suddenly, Dallon was paralyzed as chills ran down his spine and his lips parted as he searched for words. He shrank against the headboard of the bed, staring horrifyingly at him and Brendon, and his hands grappled at the bedsheets and the side table, looking for any of his weapons at all.

“You said he’s a hunter, and yet he’s acting like a scared kitten.” William commented to Brendon, tucking a strand of hair behind his ear and licking his lips.

Dallon had come face to face with many vampires, but not _Beckett_ in the flesh. He finally remembered the location of one of his weapons, and he drew a stake from his pocket and held it in front of him. He would have procured a gun also, but that wouldn’t have gone down too well at the airport. “You motherfucker!”, he cried, his hands trembling.

“Dal, calm down.” Brendon slowly approached him, placing a hand on his arm and slowly lowering the stake down. “That’s it.”, he soothed, slowly sliding it out of his tight grip. He wrapped his arm around his shoulders, sitting down on the bed next to him and kissing his forehead. “William isn’t here to hurt you, you’ll be fine.”

“You’re calling him _William_ now?” The way Dallon made it sound was blasphemous. His heart palpitated with fear, his stare on Beckett unwavering. “Brendon, why the hell did you bring him to our hotel room?”

“Shush, you’ll be okay.” Brendon assured him, whispering close to him. “It’ll all be okay.”

William stook a few steps forward, and to Dallon, the glint in his eyes was absolutely evil.

“What are you going to do?” Dallon cried out,

He broke out of his paralyzed state and snapped up to flee, but Brendon snatched his hand and yanked him back to him. William drew closer, closer, and and in the terror in Dallon’s mind cleared just enough to suddenly know what the pair was about to do to him.

“Don’t turn me!” He wailed in desperation, trying to free himself of Brendon’s hold. “Oh, god, no, I can’t...I can’t be a vampire!”

Brendon’s whispered words of comfort were just background noise, as Dallon flailed against him. He had to find a way to escape, to call Fall Out Boy screaming and crying about how Brendon had utterly betrayed all of them. It was a mistake to be so passive with letting him go to Madrid, to go to Spain in the first place, and now Dallon was facing the consequences of all of their mistakes. Dallon inhaled a shivering gulp of breath, as William Beckett stopped to stand over them.

“Do it.” William ordered, smiling in sickening contempt.

Dallon’s eyes widened, and he shrieked as soon as Brendon’s fangs fell upon his neck.

From there, Dallon became lost in his own screams and the thought that he was about to become what he had hunted for so long. Tears soaked his cheeks, as Brendon swallowed down his blood and left his veins shallow. A red stain spread through his t-shirt, and Brendon’s hold on his neck felt no longer loving but cruel.

Finally, Brendon unlatched his fangs from Dallon’s neck, and that’s where Dallon’s memory on the event became a little clearer. His neck stung in pain and his breaths were light and hurried. Brendon gave him a kiss on his cheek, telling him he was doing _so good_ so far, he was _halfway done_ as the room spun around him.

Suddenly, William was climbing over Dallon onto his lap. He tore into his own wrist, taking Dallon’s chin tenderly and lifting his wrist to his lips. Dallon kept his lips shut in defiance, albeit weakly, and his mouth was gently pried open to allow William’s blood to drip inside.

The first drop fell onto his tongue, and Dallon gasped in pleasure. He wanted to give into the sensation, to drink more, but instead he idly let it drip into his mouth and strained not to swallow.

“Drink, Dallon.” William hissed sweetly, encouraging him. “You were meant for more than a mortal existence, and fate has brought this gift your way. Stop fighting, you’re about to become so much more than anyone thought you could. Doesn’t my blood taste so good? Don’t you want more?”

William looked him straight in the eyes, and caressed the side of his face with his free hand.

“We’ll take such good care of you.” He assured him. “You don’t need to live the desolate life of a hunter, as someone who could fizzle out of existence at any moment without anyone noticing by the hands to whom you would be only a meal. I’ll make sure you’re safe, that you’re even more powerful, that you’ll have an important position in our new coven. If you get a thrill out of killing vampires, you’ll get the exact same one when you kill a human.”

William ran his fingers over Dallon’s sharp jawline, sincerity flooding his expression.

“Please, Dallon.” He crooned.

Finally, Dallon reached up for his wrist with his quivering fingers and held it firmly to his mouth, earning him a benevolent smile from William and a sigh of relief was Brendon, who had been anxiously watching the scene unfold. Dallon was the most resilient to the turning that Brendon had seen, and he couldn’t tell whether that same resilience would be a benefit or a weakness in the many coming years.

Dallon licked the blood off of William’s wrist, and the glorious flavor made him tremble, this time in satisfaction. He bit into his flesh, and took his first swallow of blood. He could almost feel it running down his throat, hitting his stomach and beginning the long and even more so agonizing process he was about to go through.

When William determined he had drunk enough, he took his wrist away and grinned. “Well done.”

Dallon, in a daze, reached up to wipe off the blood on his face, and as he stared down at the red tint on his fingers, he soon wondered, _What have I done?_

 

From experience, Dallon knew that the process of turning took approximately 7 days, give or take. For now, he felt fine, but he knew he had to get back to Chicago as soon as possible before he acquired fever-like symptoms and unbearable pain. He acted weak and tired for the course of the next day, leading on Brendon and William to think he was harmless and still recovering from the physical strain of the turning. As soon as Brendon and William disappeared in the midst of the night to feed, Dallon hurried out of bed to zip up his suitcase and catch a taxi to the airport.

As soon as he threw himself in the taxi along with his luggage in the seat beside him, he told the driver he had no time to waste and soon he was on his way. The driver thankfully let him use his phone since Dallon didn’t have any sort of international plan on his, and he bought a ticket for a plane out of Barcelona that left in less than two hours. It was unfortunately a connecting flight, but he only had one stop in London for just enough time to get to his gate and then he could be on his way to Chicago. He screenshotted the online version of his ticket, airdropped it to his phone, deleted the screenshot off the driver’s phone, and then handed it back.

_It’s going to be okay_ , Dallon promised himself.

Before he arrived at the airport, he blocked Brendon’s number just in case and deleted all of his texts after a longing read through the recent ones. At the airport, after checking his bag in and going through the security, he quickly connected to the airport WiFi and sent a message to Patrick. His fingers flew across the keyboard, and even though he knew William and Brendon wouldn’t be able to get through security, he still glanced up every so often to make sure he was safe as he sat at his gate.

**I’m flying back to Chicago alone. There’s been an emergency. Pick me up at the airport tomorrow at 3 PM.**

After a few slow minutes, he finally received a text back from Patrick. **Got it, what happened? You ok?**

**Ryan told Brendon that Beckett is still alive and wanted to talk to him. Brendon took a train to Madrid and met up with him. When Brendon got back, he returned with William and they turned me. They told me they’re starting a new coven. When they went out to feed, I escaped. Now at airport, hopefully safe at my airplane gate. They start boarding soon. I’ll text you when I’m at Gatwick Airport.**

 

 

Back in Chicago where it was afternoon, Patrick took a heavy breath as he processed the information. Dallon was not only turning, but Brendon had returned to his true nature and Beckett was alive. Chicago might have been finally becoming a little hopeful, but Europe was now about to become a living nightmare.

He threw down in phone in frustration at the desk and chucked his opened journal at the wall.

Pete turned around from where he was in the kitchen. “Everything alright, babe?”

“Fuck no.” Patrick cried, and snapped his pencil in half. His voice quivered as he said, “We’re going to _kill_ Brendon.”

**Author's Note:**

> I still can't believe I wrote over 11,000 words when I intended it to only be several thousand, but here I am. I had a snow day today and I have been mercilessly pounding my keyboard since I woke up to finish this.
> 
> If you're wondering whether there will be a part 3, yes, there definitely will be! Whether it takes me a month or a year, it will happen, I can promise you. So if you want to find out what happens next, go ahead and bookmark the series.


End file.
